


Knockout

by ShadowedSword13



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And a muscle kink, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Definitely something off about Six's kinks, F/M, Gym AU, He might just want Kat to punch him in the face, Let's be honest Six probably has a blood kink, Romance, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedSword13/pseuds/ShadowedSword13
Summary: Those are wash-board abs and I know it. Is the thought that rings through his head the same time a fist makes solid contact with his face. His head’s hitting the floor, or more accurately, the gym mat in the next instant, but he’d call it worth it to see the girl that walked by the ring.Or.Six might just have a thing for girls with snark, sass, and the ability to break his jaw.
Relationships: Kat-B320 | Noble Two/Noble Six | SPARTAN-B312
Kudos: 17





	1. Round One

**Author's Note:**

> Note for ease.  
> I've changed Six's name to Sebastian Damask.  
> Sebastian because it's close to Six. With a nickname of Seb. And Damask because that's his homeplanet.  
> He has a brother as well, Gray.
> 
> Most characters named will have a last name of there canonical home planet.

_Those are wash-board abs and I know it._ Is the thought that rings through his head the same time a fist makes solid contact with his face. His head’s hitting the floor, or more accurately, the gym mat in the next instant, but he’d call it worth it to see the girl that walked by the ring.

Except when he gets up he can feel the blood in his nose, dripping onto his tanktop, and he knows it’s not going to stop bleeding for at least five minutes.

“Seb, you alright?” There’s a hand in his face but he’s peering past it, finding the girl who looked like she could knock his block off better than his brother’s right hook ever could. He distractedly takes it anyway, letting his brother haul him to his feet, even as his eyes are searching, searching.

“You loose focus?” Gray’s hands wrap around his face, tilting his head back so all Sebastian can see is the storm gray irises as his brother is shoving his head up into the light before shading them with his hand.

“I’m fine.” He snaps, taking a step back and waving him away. “Missed your tells.” But he’s distracted and he knows it. His heart is pumping wildly, skin feeling too tight all of a sudden and his body too hot. “Got distracted.”

“You want another round?” Gray asks, bare toes curling into the padded floor before he’s setting up again, unwrapping and rewrapping his knuckles as he walks to the other side of the circle.

Sebastian snorts, wiping his nose clean and shaking his head. “Nah. Gotta stop this first.” He wrinkles his nose, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Then he is stumbling out of the ring, navigating with the bottom view out of his eyes to the men’s bathroom more out of memory then sight.

Which is probably why when a hand grabs his, pulling him in what he isn’t quite sure but can’t quite deny is the right direction, he goes with it. Even if the owner of said hand snorts with either disgust or amusement, and the hand feels a bit too cold and hard to be bare skin.

“You’re a dumbass.”

Female. Voice singing with sass and something between humor and mirth.

“Got distracted.” He managed to repeat, pinching his nose closed with his free hand so he can look at who’s leading him.

Her back is to him, steering him to the male lockers, giving him a good view of toned and muscles shoulders displayed in a dark purple sports bra and leggings, but it’s her hand that give him pause. Carbon fiber casing with hints of heavy-duty titanium and steel frames, there’s a pair of wires peeking out of one of the seams. Military grade to say the least, but not military because that crap is made by the lowest bidder and he knows it. He’s staring, knowing it’s rude when she stops, slinging him forward. He stumbles a step, glancing back at her, unable to stop his eyes from flicking from her arm to her face.

She’s giving him nothing except a bland look, crossing her arms as his eyes try their damnedest to soak in every detail of a goddess he’s only discovered today. “Come on,” she snaps, expression morphing. She must have noticed him looking at her arm, because her expression is borderline pissed leaning closer to straight up murder. “Say something and I’ll break your nose.”

He’s pretty sure the Greeks got it wrong when describing Athena, because he’s found her, and she has eyes that are blue and about as dark and deep as the Marianna’s trench.

“Do you like coffee?” Is the best line that comes to his mind, because he’s pretty sure telling her he wants her to punch him in the face isn’t a normal pick-up line.

She blinks, and he can see her mind whirling, and it’s vocalized as she taps her false fingers on her real arm, the servos whining softly in the silence between him.

“You’re bleeding out if you think that line’s going to get a date out of me.” And she leaves, marching off leaving him clutching his nose and staring at her as she goes back to her workout. She glances back, and he realizes belatedly that he hasn’t moved, hasn’t had the mind to until she rolls her eyes and heads up the stairs to the cardio level of the gym.

His brother runs up shortly, one eyebrow cocked, both their gym bags in hand.

“Did you just ask out Catherine Harmony?”

Catherine Harmony.

Catherine Harmony.

Featherweight champion four years ago where she achieved the fastest recorded female knockout in 3.14 seconds in the ring. Deployed later overseas where she lost her arm in an IED accident where she was the only survivor. Rehab and recovery constituted a year, and based on her record, she must have been discharged a year or two ago, well before she got that hot piece of steel on her arm to match the corded muscles on the other.

Was his intel background showing?

Maybe.

It wasn’t that he’s had a crush on her since the first time he’d seen her fight and been utterly entranced by her split lip and the near feral look in her eyes as she mauled her opponent.

“She’s a knockout.”

His brother groaned and rolled his eyes.


	2. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round Two.   
> Six (Sebastian) can't make a fool out of himself twice in a row right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for clarification  
> Six's name for this is Sebastian. His last name is based off homeplanet  
> Gray is his brother, because why not.

Round Two

There’s something primal that pumps through his blood as soon as he steps into the ring. It’s a haunting feeling when it leaves, but when his bare feet touch the ring floor, digging into the fabric. He tightens up his gloves, slips his mouth guard in, pointedly ignoring the fact his brother had swapped it for a blue raspberry flavored one that just….

Ew.

He sucked on it anyway, chewing anxiously on the corner of it as he met his opponent.

William.

Fought in classic boxing and did some kick boxing.

“Fighters ready?”

His heart was in overdrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening, but at the same time miles away, like he’s hearing it through water. He nods, popping his teeth into the mouth guard fully.

The ref waved them forward, and Sebastian meets his opponent up close and personally.

He’s shorter than him, a hair thinner, probably just barely classified for mid-weights. There’s fire in William’s eyes, and he looks like ready to kill. It reminds Sebastian what it was like overseas.

He taps knuckles with the man.

A swift exchange of nods. No hard feelings if either of them knocks the others lights out, regardless of it that comes with a few teeth or broken ribs.

They back away.

His back touches the cage. He braces one back foot against it as the ref takes a few steps out of the way. He’d seen both of their matches it seemed and didn’t want to be caught in the middle of either of them.

The start is a burst of speed, and first blood is taken within the first two seconds.

William’s fist finds Sebastian’s nose again, and this time he can feel the crunch of the cartilage and he knows it’s broken. The point is muted though, considering how in the next moment his hands wrap around William’s face, holding it in place as he spring up, bringing his knee up as he forces the man’s head down.

There’s a split second strain before momentum wins, and Sebastian feels the sick thrill of blood. William stumbles back, snorting blood out but looking more riled up than exhausted. Sebastian does the same, and the ref looks uncomfortable.

Sebastian spared the man a glance, and instead catches something that makes the rage in his blood chill to ice.

Dark sapphire eyes.

A wicked smirk.

A wink.

William hits him with a right hook he could have seen coming miles away if his brain was still in the realm of the living.

But the blow is all it takes for Sebastian’s blood to boil, his mind to melt back into the fight. He swings, matching the man blow for blow as they both struggle.

It’s a slug fest.

It’s borderline animalistic.

There’s blood.

He’s not sure if it’s his or Williams, but he can feel it’s not just his nose, but his lip too.

He kicks.

William catches it, taking it to the ground and forcing him into unfamiliar territory. Grappling was never his strong point.

He sees her again.

Out of the corner of his eye she’s there, pressed up against the edge of the right looking all to comfortable in a short-sleeved shirt that he too badly wants to tease her out of.

It doesn’t fit right, snags on her arm where her tank top doesn’t.

He’d much rather see her on the other side of the ring, trading blows with a woman that’s known to be deadly.

His veins _burn_. His lungs seize.

His heart thumps once, hard and thick.

The pain of William’s leg lock melts away.

He bucks, breaking out swinging.

It’s over in less than a second.

The ref is holding his hand up, yelling something to the crowd, but he’s too distracted to care. He’s won before, but he’s never seen a woman like that. He’s never had his body shatter and break and rebuild like that.

He comes to himself in the scream of the cheers and the push of a microphone into his hands. He’s staring at it, until the ref reiterates.

“Do you have anything to say?”

He blinks, staring at the mic, then back up. He glances at William, who’s slowly rolling to his feet, leaving a white chip on the mat floor in a stain of blood.

“Catherine Harmony.” He starts, swallowing the blood in his mouth. The ring goes quiet, holding onto his words. He’d spoken her name.

He finds her pressed up against the ring, a dark smile on her lips.

“Fight me or let me take you out on a date.”

She laughs.

He feels like a teenager in high school figuring out that women were pretty for the first time. The air is thinner, lighter, happier as he sucks in a breath, rapt as he watches her climb the cage, fingers curling on the black metal links as she swings herself into the cage.

She drops to the floor, and every inch of him _aches_ in a way he can’t possibly understand. His chest feels too tight. His body too hot and too cold all at once.

She snatches the mic from his hand, a wicked grin on her lips as she leans in close.

Close enough that he can smell the mint shampoo she uses. Close enough he can see the flex of her bicep as she curls her fingers a little tighter around the mic.

“Win the title match and we’ll talk about a date.” She murmurs, passing the mic back to the ref.

She winks, patting his on the cheek, wiping the blood off his mouth. Her fingers leave furrows of fire on his jaw, and he’s staring at her, properly gob smacked as she saunters back to the fence, climbing up it lithe as a cat and swinging herself back to the ground.

“We have a challenge! Can Sebastian Damask rise through the tournament? He’s taken out a top contender! And he’s got a hell of a reward if he wins! Sebastian, can you say anything about what made you ask Catherine Harmony, the Featherweight Champion, out?”

He swallows, unsure if his mouth watered, collected that much saliva, or if it’s the blood draining down the back of his throat from his nose.

He doesn’t remember what he says into the mic, but he can hear the roar of the crowd and through it, a trickle of laughter that’s all sass. His heart throbs, skin flushes.

Whatever it is.

Worth it.


	3. Round Three

Round 3

They call him Chief because calling him a ‘brick-shit-house-made-of-asswhooping-murder-and-silence’ was a bit of a mouthful.

That, and Chief was his rank, and while Sebastian only knew of him and Kat being ex-military in the UFC scene, the name had stuck, and no one seemed inclined to change it.

Sebastian had lots of knowledge on how to fight Chief. He’d seen most of his matches, had been to more than a few of them in person, and had even been privy to seeing the man serve prior to getting out.

He was technical.

He was strong.

And he was terrifying.

He just barely managed to stay in the mid-weight bracket, but even if he hadn’t, he would have been a nightmare in heavy weights.

“So, looking forward to your ass-kicking in… oh-three hours?” Sebastian didn’t have to look up from the profile in his hands to know his brother had a smirk on his lips. “Oh, no.” His tone shifts towards mischief. “I see you have your hands on something more interesting.”

Sebastian shrugs, slapping the folder closed as he got up, leaving it on the kitchen table as he headed towards the kitchen. “Yes. I did some digging. I pulled her incident report for the arm.”

Grey flips it open as Seb opens the fridge. He hums after a moment or two, a noise which Seb ignores as he set about making a light lunch.

Chances were if he ate heavy, he’d just be seeing it a second time on the ring floor.

“Detached at the shoulder?”

“Two inches from the shoulder.” Seb corrects without looking up from the fridge contents. He pursed his lips. He needs to go grocery shopping.

Nothing here but meal-prep chicken, which he didn’t want on his stomach, and things for smoothies.

Ugh. He blames his brother for eating literally everything else.

“Hey!” He barks, breaking off whatever comment Grey was going to make about his taste in women. “Why the hell does the yoga and kick-boxing instructor eat like a fatass?”

Grey has the nerve to cock an eyebrow, like he didn’t eat the other half of a pizza, the rest of a bag of pretzels Sebastian had been keeping, and whatever fruit had been left on the counter.

There’s a silence that Sebastian hopes is attributed to guilt, and not just wanting to piss him off as he shuts the fridge, fixing his brother with a glare.

Grey shrugs, but the grin doesn’t fade under Sebastian’s withering glare. “If you wanted it, you should have eaten it.”

He grits his teeth, chewing on his lower lip as he lets the annoyance simmer in his gut. He lets out a sigh. “Fine.” He gets up, shoving his wallet in his jean pockets and heading out their apartment door. “Call me if something changes in my match.”

“Can do.” He shuts the door.

The store is a walk away from the apartment, one of the small perks to choosing to live downtown as opposed to in the suburbs like Sebastian wanted to. But he was subject to his brother’s whims in some things, and it was easier just to room with him, than it was getting his own apartment and suffering through all the processes for that.

The weather is nice. Just enough clouds for it not to be hot, just enough sun for it not to be gloomy. It would be a good day for a run, but he can’t find it in him knowing that in three hours he’s going to be in the ring with Chief.

He’s palming green apples, considering the feel of them when a hand that’s too hard to be flesh and blood slaps his ass. He whirls, one hand dropping down, fingers curling around the K-bar at his side as the other slaps out, only to stop.

The green apple he’d been holding hits the ground, bruising.

She’s smiling at him, dark sapphire eyes twinkling in some dark delight. It’s her false arm that would have taken the hit from his blade, would have caught it if he’d drawn and sliced. Her real hand had caught his, thumbs locking together.

“Catherine.”

“Sebastian.” She greets coolly, glancing from him to the fruit stand. “You like green apples?”

He wants to say, _only if you do_ , but that’s just something he’s not willing to give up. “I do.” He says, slowly sliding his hand out of hers. His hand feels too warm now, and it’s making him unbalanced.

She hums, and he is suddenly very aware of the distance between them, which, as she steps forward, reaching around him to pick up another apple from the bin, is next to nothing.

Her hip is against his, one of her legs between his as she examines the apple. He swallows, casting his gaze back to the apple to try and find something to distract them.

“Looking forward to your match?” She asks, sliding the apple she’d pulled out into his searching hand.

He pulls it back, turning it over in his hand before glancing at her. It’s a little small, but the skin isn’t bruised, and the color is appetizing.

“Yes and no. I don’t think Chief’s ever lost a match.”

She smiles, like she had a secret she’d only just willing to share with him. “Then it’s a good thing we have one of ONI’s best wet workers going against him.”

He pauses, glancing down at her. He hums, “I see you still have friends in high places.”

“Just a few. Perks for this.” She wriggles her fingers, the metal clicking together softly. “I met quite a few parties that were interested in making my life easier, especially as a previous Featherweight champ.”

“If you got the same rank with your injury, it would make the backers for that arm quite popular.” He guessed.

She blinked, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she back away, heading towards the register.

The loss of proximity makes his chest twist, suddenly cold. Suddenly wanting. He followed her, mindlessly paying for his snack as he followed her out. “So, you glossed through my file.” He says as they step out.

“Read as much as I could,” She nudges him with her hip, bumping him as they head down the sidewalk, back towards Sebastian’s apartment. “But you had quite a lot of black ink.”

He shrugs, “I was good at what I did.” The line comes out cold, a little rueful. “But I got out of that. I didn’t like the…” He trails off, flexing his fingers.

He wipes the apple clean with his shirt, taking a bite.

She plucks it out of his hand, taking a bite herself before dropping it back into his hand.

He’s staring, watching the juice trail down her chin as she chews, humming softly before she wipes it away with the back of her hand.

His own hand slides up, catching her chin in his hand. They come to a halt, stopping them as he leans down. Her chewing stops, sapphire eyes staring up hesitantly into his own as he stares.

His thumb swipes across her chin. She shivers, leaning into and then away from the touch. She takes a half-step back, looking startled by her own reaction.

Sebastian can sympathize. He feels like he’s on fire. He brings his thumb up sucking the traces of juice off his thumb. She swallows hard, eyes lingering on his thumb, and for once in their conversation he feels like he has some power over her, and not she over him.

“Green apples?” He asks, taking another bite from the apple. He makes a point to make it messy, chomping the tasty skin into the sweet flesh of the fruit.

He can feel the juice on his own chin and wants her to do something about it.

He doesn’t care that the sun is out, and in a black shirt and gray joggers, he’s getting hot. He doesn’t care that there are other people around, sparing passing glances at the pair, either for standing stock still on the sidewalk, or for the way they shift and move. He doesn’t care that his own heart is thumping wildly in his chest.

“Lick your lips before I do it for you.” She tells him, turning back down the sidewalk with a huff.

He does so, feeling like he’s won, feeling like he might not be chasing a pipe dream or an off fantasy. She’d frozen, looked him in the eyes and backed away from his taunt.

He caught up to her in two big strides, taking a victories bite of his apple.

She caught him by surprise, reaching up and pulling it out of his mouth. He barely got his bite in, crunching through the rest of apple and leaving her a wedge to finish off. She took that bite viciously, teeth flashing like the fangs of a beast as she crunched through hit, tossing the core to the side.

He felt the laughter bubbling up in his chest but chose to swallow it along with the remains of his apple. She’d taken half, but he felt satisfied. If not with the food, then with her being here.

“You live around her?” She asked.

“Another block up.” He said, stepping over the curb and crossing the street.

She walked him to the door but made no move to stop once he got to the stairs. She followed him up, and it was he that paused at the door.

Sebastian hesitates, a little unsure as he slides his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and opening it.

She strolls in without preamble, and it’s a sight that he wants to commit to memory, and if possible, make a habit.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last, because his brother is an asshole that can’t let him appreciate anything without interruption.

He hears a sputter and water hitting the floor before-

“Sebastian! What the fuck!” Grey roars tucked out of sight from the doorway.

Catherine smiles, a thin press of her lips that curls up. His chest feels warm, fingers itching to slide around her jaw, tangle in her perfect bun, tease her hair out as he devours those lips like a starving man.

“What?” He asks instead, tearing his eyes off her to find his brother, frozen at the fridge, an open jug of milk in his hand and a milk mustache pinning him for a crime. He cocks an eyebrow, but Grey is focused on Catherine Harmony.

“So, you’re Sebastian’s roommate?”

“Brother.” Sebastian and Gray both answer in unison. They exchange a quick look. Then Gray screws the top back on the milk, shoving it in the fridge.

“Don’t-“

“Condoms are in the-“

Catherine beats Sebastian to it, carbon fiber fingers slapping onto the counter top, startling them both. She levels one finger at her brother, and the man holds up both hands.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He mutters, pressing himself to he far wall and skirting around them towards his bedroom. “I’ll leave.”

Catherine doesn’t speak, doesn’t say a word until Gray is in his room and the door closes. Then she turns to him, a look in her eyes that makes Seb’s spine tingle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Her fingers snag his collar, curling the soft fabric around as she fists it. She pulls him close, leaning up to press her lips against his jaw.

It’s a faint electric shock, one hand sliding around her waist and the other aching to do the same. She catches that hand, keeping it still as she puts her lips to the shell of his ear.

He’s expecting words.

He gets teeth instead, lightly biting and tracing the shell of his ear.

His grip tightens, pressing her hips to his as the other wraps around her back. She nibbles on his ear lobe and he presses her back into the counter.

She hums her approval, lips tracing his jaw before she pulls away.

“Careful.” Her words are breathless. “Your brother.” She reminds.

Sebastian swallows, working hard not to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom, or set her on the counter, or even just kiss her back.

His hands squeeze her hips once more and the flicker in her sapphire eyes betrays her interest. He physically _aches_ to hold her closer, kiss her back, pin her against the wall, the counter, _anything_ and just…

He growls, his hands leaping up to cup her face as his lips find hers.

She kisses back, and he sinks into the kiss, pressing her back against the kitchen counter, until she has to slide up on it before he crushes her against it.

“Stop.” She murmurs as his kisses turn from her lips to her jaw.

He obeys, drawing away and taking a step back.

His hands shake, so he curls them into fists.

She’s shaking too, eyes burning into him in a way that makes his skin itch and the distance between them too far. She curls her fingers around the counter top, flexing them slowly. Her artificial fingers _tap-tap-tap_ as they connect with the granite. She’s breathing hard, chest heaving, and it makes Sebastian want to step forward and kiss her again.

He swallows, gritting his teeth as she recovers.

She crosses her legs, biting her lower lip before she replies. “Dinner. Tonight. At my place.” She hesitates, “If you win.”

Chief doesn’t stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how specifically awkward it is to write eating an apple with as much sexual tension laced in as possible.


	4. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Chief square up for the final match.  
> Katherine realizes she might have bitten off more than she can chew.  
> And Cortana is having just a bit too much fun teasing her to care who wins.

Round 4

Heated

Kat doesn’t make a habit of betting on the matches.

It’s against her philosophy, and as a fighter herself, it’s not her job. She sizes up her opponents and lets her agent know, and if he bets for her, that’s fair game. But personally she likes to stay out of it.

But the temptation in this match is too much, and she finds herself placing a bet anyway, small, only a thousand, but the odds aren’t in Sebastian’s favor, and she wants him to know she’s invested.

She swallows, ignoring the warm heat in her stomach, the faint chill on her skin where his hands had touched.

She wasn’t a schoolgirl.

She was a fighter.

She was a soldier, injured and rebuilt stronger and faster and a hell of a lot meaner than anything else.

Even Chief.

She found her seat easily, mostly because she hadn’t been the one to buy it, and the person sitting next to her was far more interest in talking with her than watching the match.

“You bet against John.” The smooth hum of Cortana’s voice irritates her, but only because the smug tone underlying it.

“I might have.” She agrees.

Both fighters have yet to walk out.

That doesn’t stop the adrenaline boiling in her veins, the heat rushing to her face.

“You must actually like this boy.” She observes, “is he something special? For the "maiden of war" to like him?”

There were plenty of things she _liked_ about him. The feral look on his lips when he was fighting. The flex of his hips as he slammed his fist into another opponent. The deadly efficient way he fought. That wasn’t even counting the physical appeal. He was fit. More than fit, he was built, slim lean muscle stretched over a tall frame, layered onto a man that wasn’t afraid when a woman stepped up and looked him dead even in the eye.

She might require heels, but she had a feeling Sebastian wouldn’t mind if a few inches made her a hair taller.

And someone that didn’t mind if a fifth of her body was fake.

If anything, she wonders if it riled him up even more.

The music roared, spotlights swiveling as the announcer stepped on stage. The normal spiel about master fighters stepping into the ring. The normal rousing challenge directed at both of them. And then,

“And it seems our very own Sebastian Damask has something personnel riding on this match! A date with the ever-ferocious Catherine Harmony!”

The crowd roars, and if her presence wasn’t noticed on entry, it is when the spotlight spins and shines on her. She purses her lips, turning to Cortana, who looks the furthest thing from innocent.

The chatter dies though when Chief steps out.

And Catherine wonders if she’s feeling as secure in her bet as she should be.

Sebastian might be lean and mean, corded muscle and deadly skill. Chief is…

Chief looks like a human tank.

“Did you know he had to stop eating to keep in mid-weight?” Cortana hums into her ear. “More cardio, less weights. And he dropped water weight for the weigh in.”  
She already knew that, knew that he passed by two pounds, which was definitely water weight, but no one said a thing about it.

Catherine huffs. “Alright. What do you want?”

Cortana simply hums, smug smile remaining on her lips as her man slides into the ring. He cracks his neck, sliding on the gloves as the announcer calls out Sebastian.

And to his credit- Sebastian looks the calm. But she can see the tells in his fists, in the cool burn of his stare as he scans the crowd. In the methodical clench and flex in his fingers as he walks to the ring.

His eyes find her, and there’s a moment where he stops. Transfixed.

Then he turns and slides into the ring, and Catherine isn’t sure when her body stopped remembering how to breathe.

“You are taking that boy out, right?” Cortana asks suddenly.

“Tonight.” She murmurs, “if he wins.”

“Shit. And I thought I was a tease.”

Tease. She could still feel where his hands had wrapped around her hips, his lips pressing against hers. She shifted, crossing her legs before turning her attention back to the fighters. “He can keep up.”

Both of them weren’t slow starters. And she could see it in how Sebastian warmed up-not with slow motions and gentle katas, he stretched and launched into a full sweep of kicks and blocks. Each useless in a fight for the showy manner he flung them in, but she recognized it for what it was.

A feint.

Make Chief think he was going to use his Muay Thai background, use the kicks that art was so proud of.

Neither fighter spoke as they approached the center of the ring. The steel cage lowering down, trapping them in.

“Did you know it was a steel cage match?” Cortana asks.

“Title matches usually are.”

“Hope your man has a good mouth guard. Last cage match with Chief ended with some bent bars and a dentist on call.”

She chose not to comment on that.

The match started with the clang of a bell and Sebastian rushing forward.

It wasn’t a feint.

It was the furthest thing from a feint, but it caught Chief off guard, if the front kick that he barely dodge was any indication. Sebastian transitioned, shifting his hips and reversing momentum as he brought it down, heel catching the man in the back of the neck.

Chief hit the ground.

Cortana froze, all smugness disappearing.

The count started.

Sebastian took a step back, breathlessly staring at Chief. The man shifted, groaning softly before he looked up at Sebastian.

Words were spoken, and both men’s lips peeled back into a smile. Then the fight bloomed in full. Sebastian fell on him, and Chief rolled away, back to his feet. If being on his knees bother Seb, it didn’t show, not in how he blocked Chief’s kick, and not in how he shuffled back, easing back from his knees back to his feet just as smooth as his first kick.

The kicks stopped though.

Too wild, too slow. Too telegraphed.

It became a series of blocks and punches, dodges and ducks as they weaved into the others guard before backing up. More than one knee got through into the others side when they wrapped up, and she wasn’t sure who got the better of who in it.

Sebastian had the background, and no doubt the technique if he did Muay Thai.

Chief had the muscle and the mass to make it hurt regardless.

“Oh shit.” The words tumbled into the air, but she wasn’t sure if it was Cortana or her that said them first.

But they both recognized the build, the flex, the charge in the men’s movements as hips ratcheted back. Neither seemed inclined to block, and both threw a right roundhouse with a snarl.

Both fighters caught the offending foot, and for a moment there was stalemate. One that shuffled back and forth for a moment as Chief pulled Seb, and then vice versa.

A moment of peace occurred when they both nodded, reaching up to cough, take out their mouthguard and spit blood onto the mat. They replaced them and dropped the legs.

Back to square one.

“Broken ribs?”

“Broken ribs.”

“How many you think?”

“Chief has a fat foot and you know it. I’m thinking Sebastian has three or four. Chief has three.”

“I dunno. That kick looked pretty good. They might be even.”

Even maybe, but not for long.

MMA fights didn’t last long on principle. Fighting for more than a minute straight was exhausting. The mind was whirling through action, reaction, defense and offense, and that energy took its toll. That didn’t include the actual actions itself, or the damage.

Both fighters were flagging, their usual sequence of six or seven blows reducing to four or five. Six rolls through a series of punches, quick and tight. Chief blocks, fending them off with a huff, before Six spins, eyes fixed on the single point even as the rest of his body pivoted.

Off the mat. Through the air.

And….

She knows the man was flexible.

She’d seen it in earlier fights.

She’s never seen a full body rolling kick preformed in an acutal MMA fight though.

And it-.

“Was that a domawashi?” And of course the spook knows the Japanese term instead of the English one.

“Rolling kick.” She mutters. “Not… practical.”

But the kick caught Chief by surprise, the sudden drop, the twist, how quickly he’d snapped the move out. He hadn’t blocked it, taken the full blow on his shoulder and dropped to a knee.

Sebastian balances, then jumps back, the heel he’d kicked with raised, and even from her seat, she can see it’s already red. Bruised? Had he landed it wrong?

Chief stands, fingers flexing before he nods his head at the ref, who stands transfixed. The man eases over, and with another jerk of his head, the man understands.

“Uhh-it-due to- uh.” The ref swallows. “Chief has elected to forfeit the match, due to a-“ he glanced at the man, then to the shoulder Sebastian had kicked. “a uh- a broken- collarbone. He believes.”

An uncertain pause before the ref turns to Sebastian. “Which means Mr. Damask is the new midweight champion!”

Sebastian’s eyes lock on hers, and suddenly she’s recalling her promise to the man. And every dangerously lethal move he’s made in the past two minutes.

She swallows, gathering her courage before smiling back, crossing her arms over her chest and returning the heated look with a wink.


End file.
